


torture me with all I've wanted

by ohmcgee



Category: DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Aftercare, Belts, Kink, Light BDSM, M/M, Mild D/s, Spanking, Timothy Drake is a pretty pretty sub, possibly exaggerated subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-15 06:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3436445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shouldn't be the one to explain this shit to him. It should be someone he trusts, someone who hasn't tried to fuck him up and fuck him over so many times, someone he actually likes.  But he's here and he's asking Jason now and it occurs to Jason that Tim's lost so many people, maybe he really is the only one he can come to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> aural accompaniment: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zmOUSX6mw0
> 
> I think I might write this from Tim's pov next, because, well, that just sounds like a lot of fun and I do what I want.

Truth be told, Jason isn’t even really surprised the first time the replacement slams him up against a wall and shoves his tongue down his throat like he wants to choke him with it. Jason, he gets it. The job, the mission as all the little bats like to call it, it does a number on you, fucks with your senses real good until you find yourself in a dark alley with a guy who may or may not be an ally, a whole pile of bloody, unconscious bodies at your feet, and suddenly that adrenaline spikes and all you can do is grip tight and ride it out. 

Besides, it’s not entirely unwelcome. Not like he’d let the fucking replacement try to climb him like a tree if he didn’t _want_ it, hadn’t thought about it a handful of times before, watching the kid move, staring at the blood on his mouth Jason may or may not have put there. Jason gets off on it just as much as he does, most likely in a couple of different ways than the birdboy, the spray of blood on his armor, feel of bones and cartilage shifting and breaking beneath his hands. Tim probably just gets off on the _justice_ of it all. 

So he lets Tim kiss him, pour all of that raw, hungry energy into him, biting at Jason’s mouth, his tongue, teeth clacking together as he shakes and shakes until finally he starts to come down from it, hands fisted in Jason’s jacket, trying to steady his breathing. Jason doesn’t realize he’s pushed his hands into TIm’s hair until he’s pulling him back by it, trying to look in his eyes but only getting the white lenses. 

“You good?” He asks, surprised at how gravelly his voice comes out.

Tim just stands there, swaying back a little on his feet and nods. 

“I’ll zip these guys up and make the call,” he says. “You go, uh--”

Tim’s already gone.

 

***

 

For not really being surprised when it happened the first time, Jason’s kind of thrown when it happens again. Once can be blamed on adrenaline, on a sleep-debt so large it rendered him temporarily insane, can be denied if you try hard enough. A second time is scarily close to becoming a pattern.

Tim’s mouth is hot and unforgiving against his, the same desperate hunger buzzing beneath his skin. He claws at Jason’s suit, at his arms, tangles his fingers in Jason’s hair until Jason settles his hands on Tim’s hips and Tim goes almost completely still against him. 

Jason chuckles lightly and pushes his thumb into one of Tim’s cheekbones, right beneath the domino. He wishes he could just push it up, see what those baby blues look like right now, if they’re wide and bright or slitted, like he can barely keep them open. “Easy,” he says, something hot and wild coiling in his belly when Tim’s face just goes slack at his touch, leaning into it like he’s starved for it. “ _Jesus._ ”

Tim makes a sound in the back of his throat that _almost_ sounds like a whimper, then Jason’s gripping his arms, spinning them around so that Tim's pressed against the brick, swearing beneath his breath at how fucking pliable and giving his body is, and gets his hand on Tim’s cock through his suit. 

“This what you need?”

“Y-yes,” TIm’s voice is a soft, stuttery rasp when he arches into Jason’s hand and comes all over himself.

 

***

 

It isn’t until the fifth or sixth time they end up like this that everything begins to fall into place and make sense. 

He’s got Tim up against a wall, pants pushed down just past his ass, hand wrapped around his dick, teeth on his neck, but Tim’s still clawing at him, writhing against the brick, making all these bitten-off, frustrated noises in the back of his throat, pathetic and impatient like he wants something, but doesn’t know _what_. Or maybe just doesn’t know how to ask.

“Shh,” Jason says, pushing his fingers against Tim’s face the way he did the first time, his breath catching when Tim’s head lolls back, exposing his throat to Jason. Jason flashes back, vaguely remembers the glint of metal, the way Tim tried not to, but shook against him anyway as he growled hateful words in his ear. Absently, he reaches out and strokes his thumb over the area, what should’ve probably scarred but somehow didn’t, and is brought back into the moment by Tim’s choked off moan, too loud, echoing in the dark, disgusting alley they're doing this in. 

Jason blinks, presses his thumb a little firmer, drags another helpless, pleading noise out of Tim’s mouth, his dick twitching in Jason’s hand. “Oh replacement,” he says, maybe a little more awestruck than he’d like to sound, wrapping the whole width of his hand around Tim’s throat. “You _are_ a mess.” And Tim fucking comes _apart._

It’s amazing and gorgeous and hot as hell and Jason feels almost drunk with it, the way Tim just _reacts_ to him.

“Lick it off,” he says, the power he holds over Tim rushing through his veins like poison, raising his hand to Tim’s face, and when Tim does, Jason’s knees threaten to buckle. Licking his palm, dragging his tongue between each finger, pulling each one into his mouth, sucking them clean, _moaning_ around them, it’s--

“Rep -- Tim,” Jason says, a little rougher than he’d meant. “Get your pretty mouth on my cock."

Tim makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and the speed at which he drops to his knees gives Jason a head rush, makes him have to reach out and brace himself. He just wants to grab a fistful of Tim’s hair and fuck his throat raw, make it so he tastes nothing but him for _days._ He has a feeling Tim wouldn't even mind. 

“Jesus _fuck,_ ” he snaps, planting a hand on the wall behind him as Tim takes him down, lips tight and hot around him,mouth so fucking wet and sweet, tonguing Jason’s slit to taste him. “Good, so good,” he mumbles and not just hears but _feels_ Tim moan around him. 

“So fucking good,” Jason groans, unable to stop, then Tim’s reaching up, grabbing his hands and guiding them to his head. “Oh fuck, you -- you want me to fuck your mouth?”

Tim’s answer is a tiny, broken whimper around his dick and a brief nod of his head.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Jason shivers and winds his fingers into Tim’s hair, tilting his head back a little so he can see his dick push between Tim’s lips, biting the side of his cheek to hold back the embarrassing noises he knows he'd make if he didn't. And it's amazing, the way Tim just goes slack, mouth falling open around Jason, opening up his throat to just let Jason _use_ him. And it’s so much, _too_ much, and Jason’s vision goes white, shouting a little too loud as he comes down Tim’s throat. 

When he can finally open his eyes and not see bright white spots everywhere, Jason looks down and sees Tim, still on his knees, mouth still slightly parted, just swaying back and forth.

“Look at you,” he says, crouching down in front of Tim, wiping his thumb across his bottom lip where there was still come clinging to it. “You just need someone to take care of you, don’t you?”

Tim blinks up at him. Jason laughs, but there’s no malice in it, just something that feels strangely like fondness. It’s definitely strange, alright.

“Come on,” he says, hauling Tim up and setting him right. Tim’s still a little unsteady on his feet, listing lazily when Jason lets him walks on his own, so he grabs him by the arm and guides him down the street until Jason finds his bike.

“Get on,” he says, handing Tim the helmet to put on. "I'm going to take care of you, baby bird." 

 

***

 

Tim’s a heavy weight against him, arms loose around Jason’s stomach, as he drives them the couple of blocks to the apartment he keeps in Gotham. When he shuts off the bike and climbs off, Tim’s still so out of it Jason practically has to carry him up the stairs. 

He sets him down on the couch and brings him a glass of water, sitting down on the coffee table across from him. Tim just sits there when he’s finished drinking, not swaying anymore but just so still and quiet, so Jason takes some solvent and rubs it around the edges of the domino, gently peeling it off and setting in on the table next to the water. Tim’s eyes are heavy and lazily, unfocused as he looks around the room, at Jason, reaching up to touch the bruise Jason left on his neck, pushing his fingers into it. _Fuck._

“Hey,” Jason says, touching his knee, and Tim drops his hand, blinking up at him. “You okay?”

Tim blinks again, then a few seconds later he finally nods, like it took him a while to process what Jason was asking. 

Jason lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “What...do you need anything?” 

Tim glances at the throw blanket draped over the chair in the corner and Jason immediately gets up and grabs it, wrapping it around Tim’s shoulders, wants to kick himself for not realizing Tim was shivering. 

“Christ,” he mutters and slips down onto the couch next to Tim, rubbing his arms to warm him up, and Tim just curls into him, tucking his head under Jason’s chin. 

They stay there like that, Jason’s hands sliding up and down Tim’s arms, the back of his neck, occasionally reaching up to push his hair out of his face, until Tim finally stops shivering and sits up on his own, his eyes back to bright and blue, alert. Back with him. 

“What,” he says, voice scratchy. “What happened?” He still has Jason’s blanket wrapped around him and he just looks so small and vulnerable Jason wants to scoop him up and put him in his bed, make him get the sleep he looks like he so desperately needs. 

“What...you don’t remember?” A cold, sickness starts to spread through Jason’s chest, bile stinging the back of his throat. Oh god, he doesn’t -- what if he was too out of it to realize what he was doing? He should’ve -- _oh jesus no_. He didn’t -- he thought --

Tim flicks his eyes up at him and color blossoms in his cheeks. “Yeah,” he says, looking away, more timid and shy than Jason figures he’s ever let anyone see him look, which just makes things even more confusing. “I remember what...what we…” He trails off, chewing on the loose skin on his bottom lip. “I’m just kind of fuzzy on...how we got here?”

“I brought you here. On my bike. You really don’t remember that?”

Tim squints like he’s _trying_ to remember, but ultimately he shakes his head. “Not really?"

“You must have really needed that, huh?”

Tim blushes again, trying to retreat into the blanket. “I...guess.”

“Hey,” Jason says, tugging at the edges of it. “Don’t do that. Don’t be embarrassed or whatever. Just...don’t. Okay?”

Tim swallows. “Okay.” A beat, then. “It’s just. I don’t really, um. Understand it?” He frowns, looking down at the floor. “I think. I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“Oh god,” Jason says, scooping Tim up into his lap like he doesn’t weigh a thing, dwarfing Tim’s face with his hands. “No. _No._ Jesus, you need it so bad and you don’t even know _why_. Fuck.”

“Tell me, then,” Tim murmurs, fingering the fraying threads on Jason’s shirt like a nervous habit , avoiding his eyes. “What do I need?”

Jason’s breath catches in his throat. He can't believe he's doing this. That out of all the good, safe people out there Tim's asking _him_. He shouldn't be the one to explain this shit to him. It should be someone he trusts, someone who hasn't tried to fuck him up and fuck him over so many times, someone he actually likes. But he's here and he's asking Jason now and it occurs to Jason that Tim's lost so many people, maybe he really is the only one he can come to. 

“You need someone to take care of you,” he says, absently stroking Tim’s hip, missing the way his eyelids flutter. “Need to be told what to do and be praised when you do it well, punished when you don't. " He doesn't miss the way Tim's breath hitches at that last part." You need to feel safe.” He continues and almost let's out a laugh because jesus christ, Jason is the very fucking last person he should be letting himself feel safe around. But then he realizes Tim is rocking against him, already hard again, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. Jason reaches up, pressing his thumb into the bruise on Tim’s throat and Tim arches against it, gasping softly and digging his fingers into Jason’s shoulders. “You need this too, don’t you?” He asks, but it’s less of a question and more like he’s asking for permission, voice close to a whisper. “To be hurt. You like it.”

Tim whimpers, buries his face in Jason’s neck as he grinds against him. 

“God, you’re fucking starved for it, aren’t you?” Jason says, leaning in to mouth at the bruise his thumb made on Tim’s throat earlier, feeling it twitch beneath his lips. “Mm, take your pants off so I can touch you.”

Tim slides off of him instantly, stripping his pants and underwear down, then crawls back into Jason’s lap, whimpering when Jason gets his hand around him, bucking into it, fingers digging into Jason’s biceps. 

“Shh, “ Jason says in his ear. “Easy, god. Just let me take care of you, okay?”

Tim nods and the tension slowly unwinds out of him until he’s putty in Jason’s hands, curling into him as Jason gets him off, slow and easy. 

“Tim,” he says when he realizes Tim’s eyes have gone heavy and dark, his fist curled up tight in Jason’s shirt. “Hey, look at me.”

Tim blinks up at him. 

He’s so fucking pretty like this, completely giving himself over to something he doesn’t even quite understand yet. Jason suddenly has the urge to push him farther, see just how deep Tim can go.

“I want you to come for me now,” Jason says and Tim’s hips stutter and his body jerks and he’s coming, whimpering against Jason’s neck and clutching his shirt, riding Jason’s fist until he can’t take it anymore and slumps against him.

Jason chuckles and lays him out on the couch. “Be right back,” he says and returns a few seconds later with a warm cloth, wipes Tim down with it until he’s not sticky anymore and wraps him back up in the blanket. “You feel like sleeping now?”

Tim nods, still not completely coherent enough to make words, but still present enough to feel slightly embarrassed when Jason scoops him up and carries him to his room. He wants to protest, tell Jason he can walk, but he’s not entirely sure he can, actually, and Jason’s just so warm and big and strong, carrying him like he’s _nothing._ It’s good.

“Sleep,” Jason says, pulling the blankets up to Tim’s chin. “You’re wrecked.”

Tim curls onto his side and does as he’s told.


	2. Red For Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve just never seen anything like it." Jason says. "It’s intense. You’re really intense.”

“What do you want?” Jason asks, once he realizes the thing crawling just beneath his skin, twisting in his gut, is the desperate, inexplicable need to give Tim exactly that. “Fuck that. What do you need?”

Tim worries his bottom, chapped lipped with his teeth. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” Jason says, standing up to open the door for him. “Think about it. Then come back.”

 

***

 

Something unexpected comes up a few days later, something the actual fucking _Justice League_ recruits his team for and they have to go off-world to deal with some shit that fucking Superman stirred up, the dick. It feels like they’re only gone a day at the most, but once they finally get shit handled and back on planet, Roy picks up a paper and says, “Huh. It’s February.”

“Bullshit,” Jason snaps, snatching the paper out of his hands, scowling at the date. “Three weeks? We were gone three fucking weeks? Jesus.”

Roy shrugs. “Space and shit.”

He turns his phone on and the little chirping text notification goes off so many times Jason thinks it might be stuck. Roy snickers. “Someone’s popular.”

Jason grunts. “I gotta…”

“Yeah,” Roy handwaves. “You go do you, Jaybird.”

And that’s why Roy’s the best. Half the time he won’t shut the fuck up, but somehow he always knows when to let shit be.

 

***

 

Tim’s sitting on his couch when Jason finally walks into the safehouse, bone-tired and kind of dazed because of what Roy calls space lag, and apparently a little time-lag thrown in there too. _Three fucking weeks._ He looks at Tim and raises his eyebrows.

“I heard you were back on planet,” Tim says and Jason doesn’t even have to guess how he found out so quick, stupid genius brain like Tim’s probably figured out how to hack into the League’s systems years ago. 

“Sorry I didn’t,” Jason begins, setting the hood down on an endtable. “I had no idea we were going to be gone that long.”

Tim shrugs, but Jason can see the tension tight in his shoulders, pinching his face. “It happens. I just figured,” he trails off, finding some interesting stain on the wall to look at instead of Jason’s face. “You know, that you. Changed your mind.”

Jason crosses the small living room in four long strides, plopping down on the second-hand couch next to him. He lifts his hand and presses his fingers firm against his vertebrae, cups his hand around his neck and practically feels the tension and anxiety bleed out of Tim. “Have you changed your mind?”

Tim turns his head a little to look at him, eyes already gone a little glassy and far-off, and shakes his head. 

“Good,” Jason says, squeezing experimentally, dragging his knuckles down Tim’s spine, watching his eyes go hooded and his mouth slack. “Cause I sure as hell didn’t.”

Tim lunges at him like a starved puppy, grabbing Jason’s face and fucking into his mouth with his tongue gracelessly, making a choked off noise when Jason gets his hand in his hair and pulls him into his lap, kissing him back, controlling it, making it better, slower, kissing him long and deep until Tim's whimpering in the back of his throat and pawing at him, pulling at his clothes. 

“Please,” he whispers when Jason pulls back, Tim’s cheek pressed against his like he can’t look at him when he says it, chest heaving against Jason’s with each heavy breath. 

Jason thumbs at his jaw, tilts his chin up and sucks a pink mark into his throat, likes the high, keening noise Tim makes when Jason’s teeth graze his skin. “Did you think about what you want?” He asks, low and gravelly, like he hasn’t used his voice in years. 

Tim squirms in his lap. “Yes.”

Jason mouths at the spot behind Tim’s ear, feels him shudder against him. “And?”

Tim gasps when Jason’s teeth tug at his earlobe. “I just want,” he grinds his hips down against Jason’s. “I just want you to do...whatever you want. Anything.”

Jason pulls back, thin line on his face. “Uh uh,” he says. “That’s not how it works.”

Because it’s _not._ Maybe that’s how some people play it, but Jason doesn’t trust himself with that much power and christ, neither should _Tim._

Tim makes a pathetic noise that almost makes Jason feel sorry for him and buries his face in the crook of Jason’s shoulder. “Why not?” He mumbles against his skin.

“Because,” Jason says, “It’s just not. If you’re not ready to deal with all this yet, fine. We can wait. Or we don’t have to do it, whatever. But --” _but I won’t hurt you again._ “That’s part of the deal.”

“What do you want to know?” Tim asks after a few quiet moments, sitting back on Jason’s thighs, fingers still twisted up in Jason’s jacket. 

“What you want,” Jason strokes the inside of Tim’s thigh absently. “What you need. What you like.”

“I like,” Tim bites his lip, a hot blush spreading out over his pale skin. “Pain.”

Jason smirks. “Oddly, I had put that together already,” he says and when Tim flips him off Jason feels a weight he didn’t even know he was carrying fade away. “What else?”

“I like...marks,” he says quietly and Jason squeezes his thigh a little without meaning to, just thinking about it, covering Tim in bruises, marking him all up. “Bruises and uh --”

“Bite marks?”

Tim bites his lip, nods. “Yeah. And uh, pretty much anything that leaves a mark. Like nails or, um, anything...sharp.”

“Jesus,” Jason breathes out and grips Tim’s hips and Tim grins a little, crookedly, like he’s smugly proud of himself. 

“And you can, uh. Hit me. With your hands or...anything.”

“Fuck, okay. Okay, that’s good,” Jason breathes out shakily, sliding his hand beneath the hem of Tim’s shirt, ghosting his fingers over his stomach with the lightest touch, feeling Tim’s abs flex and contract beneath his fingertips. “But what do you need right now?”

“Anything,” Tim blurts out, digging his fingers into the meat of Jason’s shoulders and grinding against him, eyes falling closed when Jason reaches between them, pressing the heel of his hand against Tim’s dick. “Everything. Just, fuck, I want, _Jason_ \--”

Jason chuckles against Tim’s throat, kissing and mouthing his way up to Tim’s mouth, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “Mm-mm, use your words,” he teases.

“Oh _fuck,_ ” Tim groans when Jason gets his pants open, shoves his hand down them and cups Tim through his briefs. “I want -- I _need_ to come, oh god--”

“Mmm, good boy,” Jason hums against his skin, pulling Tim’s brief’s away enough to get his dick out, to wrap his hand around it and let Tim fuck up into his fist, enough precome gathered at the head for Jason to smear it around, enough for it not to be completely dry. “Jesus, Tim, so wet for me already. You’re fucking dripping. Needed this so bad, didn’t you?”

“Y-yeah,” Tim shudders, rolling his hips up to fuck Jason’s hand, fingers digging into his shoulders. “W-waited,” he tries, then whatever he was going to say next dissolves into a sobbing moan when Jason pulls his shirt to the side and sinks his teeth into his shoulder. 

“Waited for what?” Jason asks, laving at the redness on Tim’s flesh when he’s finished.

“You,” Tim groans. “To get back. I d-didn’t --”

“Oh fuck,” Jason says, staring at Tim like he can’t fucking _believe_ him. “You haven’t touched yourself the whole time I was -- in three _weeks_?”

Tim shakes his head. “ _Please._ ”

“Yeah, baby,” Jason murmurs, still half-dazed and in fucking awe, “I got you. God, you’re so good, I can’t believe you.” He spills Tim out of his lap back onto the couch and peels his jeans and boxers off, leans down and sucks the skin where Tim’s thigh meets his groin, having to hold him down on the couch with his hands to keep him still. 

“Jason,” he whines, frantic, reaching back to grip the arm of the couch. 

“Shh, I said I got you,” Jason says and wraps his fingers around the base of Tim’s dick, mouthing at the tip before letting him slide into his mouth completely. 

“Oh _oh_ ,” Tim’s hips spasm and Jason has to shove them back down on the couch to keep Tim from choking him. “Oh my _god._ ” Jason sucks at the head wetly, pulling off with a loud, obscene pop and dives back in, lips tight around Tim’s shaft, cradling his balls in his hand as he takes him as far as he can then slides his mouth back up to tongue at the slit. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t,” Tim pants, stomach muscles flexing and contracting beneath Jason’s hand.

“Good,” Jason says, pulling off to look up at him. “Don’t.” He slips a finger behind Tim’s balls, watches his eyes go big and bright, licks at the tip of Tim’s cock and catches him in his mouth right as he start to come, bucking off the couch and moaning so pretty, so _filthy_ , just coming and coming down Jason’s throat, Jason swallowing and licking him through it until he’s soft in his mouth and whimpering, hands shoving at Jason’s head when he’s too sensitive to take anymore.

“Fuck, that was beautiful,” Jason leans back and wipes his mouth. “Can’t believe you waited for me.”

Tim blushes, lifts one of his shoulder in a lazy shrug. “S’what I’m supposed to do, right?”

Jason feels something deep inside him clench tight, stealing the air from his lungs. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah I guess so.”

Tim reaches for the waistband of his jeans, flicking the button open to try to get him off, but Jason bats his hand away. “No. Not yet.” 

“Yet?” Tim asks, eyes bright and curious.

“Mmm,” Jason hums. “Take a nap. When you wake up, we’re gonna do this right.”

Tim swallows hard. “I’m not tired.”

Jason laughs and stands up, slipping his belt out of jeans. “Take a fucking nap,” he says, just firm enough for Tim’s eyes to get that far away look in them. “You’re going to need it.”

 

***

“Red for stop,” Jason says, running his fingers back and forth over the smooth leather in his hands. Tim’s eyes are glazed over, focused intently on Jason’s hands, on what he has in his hands, his thoughts already in the next moment, thinking about what Jason’s going to do to him. “ _Tim._ ”

Tim blinks up at him. He knows -- he thinks -- Jason probably asked him a question, he remembers hearing his voice, but he doesn’t know what it was. 

Jason puts the belt down and Tim must frown visibly or make some kind of pathetic noise of protest because Jason’s expression softens and he holds Tim’s chin between his fingers, tilting his face up. “You with me?”

Tim nods. 

“Good. What do you say if you want me to stop?”

Tim swallows a dry lump in his throat. Just the _implication_ that Jason would stop, that he’d ever _want_ him to stop makes him feel kind of lost again, kind of scared. Jason must notice because he starts to stroke Tim’s cheek with his thumb. 

“I’ll only stop if you want me to, but you have to promise me you’ll say it if it’s too much. Promise me or this is all off.”

Panic surges in Tim’s chest at that and he nods. “Red,” he says immediately, frantically. “Red to stop.”

“And to slow down?”

“Y-yellow,” Tim stammers, struggling against the voice inside his head screaming _harder, faster, don’t stop, don’t ever stop, please._

“Good,” Jason says. “Ready?”

Tim has to bite down on his lip and nod his head before he fucking begs for it like his body is screaming at him to do. 

“Good,” Jason says again and Tim still isn’t used to the way his body reacts to that, Jason’s voice soft and praising, the way it makes him warm, makes his skin prickle all over. “On your knees.”

Tim pulls the skin on his bottom lip between his teeth until he tastes the sharp tang of blood on his tongue, rolling over on the bed, bracing himself on hands and knees. He’s completely naked and Jason’s still fully dressed. He feels open and vulnerable and a little embarrassed, but then Jason’s running his hands down his back, sliding them over the curve of his ass and down his thighs, and the back of his knuckles barely graze Tim’s balls, making his thighs tremble. 

The first time Jason’s belt comes down against the back of his thighs it’s just a light slap, but it’s enough to make Tim’s cock twitch at the prospect of more. The next time is harder, but still not enough, Jason slowly working up to it like he’s afraid of something and Tim almost wants to say something seething and nasty about him holding back, but that’s -- that’s not for here, for now, so he bites his tongue and he waits, patient. He’s rewarded for that patience the next time, the belt coming down across his ass and he can feel the strip of skin where it touched him, stinging and hot even after it’s gone, when Jason’s fingers replace the belt, sliding his fingers over the redness. 

“Good?”

“More,” Tim croaks out, flexing his fingers in the sheets, and cries out when Jason hits him with it again, definitely harder this time, sweeter, better. It goes straight to his cock and straight to his head, making it fuzzy and heavy, hanging between his shoulders when Jason’s belt comes down on him again and again and again, until his entire ass feels like it’s on fire. It takes Tim a minute to realize that the choking, sobbing noises in the room belong to him and that Jason’s stopped hitting him and that he really needs to do something about that.

“Tim? Is this --”

“More, please,” he rasps out and for a second he doesn’t think Jason’s going to comply, but then he feels it, the belt coming back against his thighs, just barely slapping against his balls and his arms gives out. He falls forward onto his elbows with a moan and his cock is so hard it hurts and he ruts against the bedspread to give himself a little relief, screaming out when the belt comes down against him again, harder than ever.

“I didn’t say you could come yet,” Jason says, but then the bed is dipping behind him and Jason’s hands are sliding up his ass, then his mouth is there, wet and soft and warm against the raised welts on his skin and it’s such a fucking contrasts that it brings tears to Tim’s eyes, makes him clutch the edge of the mattress. He needs to come so _bad_ but Jason has to tell him he can first and it’s both the most infuriating and most amazing thing anyone’s ever done to him. 

Jason touches him forever, kissing every mark he put on him, dragging his tongue across his beaten, broken skin, palming and caressing Tim’s ass until Tim feels like he’s going to come apart, feels like his bones are shaking under his skin. 

“Please,” he says, not caring if he’s begging anymore, not caring how pathetic or desperate he sounds because he _is_. He’d do fucking anything right now if Jason would just let him drop his hips and rut against the comforter, because he’s pretty sure that’s all it’s going to take. 

“Soon,” Jason says and Tim feels like _crying_ because soon is not _now_ and he needs to come _now._ “You’re going to make me come first.”

The bed dips again and Jason stands up. Tim can hear the rustle of his clothes being removed and it feels too hot in the room all of a sudden, not enough air. Then Jason’s saying, “Come over here,” and Tim turns around to see him standing there, hand on his dick, stroking it slow but sure. He’s looking at Tim like he wants to fuck him _up_ , his eyes dark and intense and Tim thinks he’s seen them look that way many times before, but no, maybe never quite like this. So he’s slides off the bed and kneels on the floor in front of him, the hardwood digging into his knees, but it’s good. His ass and the back of his thighs sting and his knees hurt and Jason’s twisting his fingers into his hair just enough to pull it at the root, then he’s tugging Tim’s mouth onto his dick and that’s when Tim starts to slip away. Jason’s hand in his hair, his cock thick and heavy on his tongue, ramming the back of his throat. He feels like he’s floating away, like he weighs nothing at all as he closes his eyes and concentrates on the harsh slide of Jason’s cock between his lips, making them pleasantly numb, the way his throat feels raw with it. 

“Jesus, so good,” Jason gasps above him and Tim barely hears him, his voice sounds muffled, like it’s underwater, but he registers the praise anyway, opens and relaxes his throat so Jason can have even more of him. “Oh _fuck_ , you --”

Then he’s coming and Tim can taste him on the back of his throat, on his tongue, on his lips when Jason pulls out and gets it all over his mouth, on his chin. Then he’s dropping down and kneeling in front of Tim, grabbing his face and kissing him and Tim still feels like he’s not quite part of himself, fuzzy and light and warm, as Jason uses his shirt to wipe his come off Tim’s face, uses his tongue to lick it from his lips and out of his mouth, telling him how fucking pretty he looks, how good he is, so fucking good for him. Then Jason’s getting his hand on Tim’s dick and a calloused thumb swipes over the head of it and Tim’s bucking, grasping at Jason shoulders and coming, a hoarse sob escaping his lips as he collapses against Jason’s shoulder, boneless, weightless.

 

***

 

Tim comes back to himself slowly, the cold air against his sweaty skin the first thing he feels, making him shiver. Sounds are next, loud and harsh in his ears, the whine-whistle of the air conditioner, the buzzing of the ceiling fan overhead, a car alarm going off a few blocks over. The next thing he registers are Jason’s hands on him, smearing something smooth and nice feeling over the welts on his skin. When he’s done he covers Tim with the sheet and the comforter and tucks it around him, which is also nice because he still can’t stop shivering, and he wonders briefly why Jason left, but then he’s back, settling in the bed next to him, leaning against the headboard and offering him a water bottle. Tim wants to roll over onto his back, but he feels like it probably wouldn’t feel too great just yet, so he props up on his elbows a little even though they tremble when he does, and tips the water down his throat and drinks nearly half of it in one gulp. He had no idea how parched he was. 

“Thanks,” he says, putting the cap back on and handing it to Jason, lying his head back down on the pillow.

“Jesus fuck,” Jason says and it sounds like he lets out a breath he’d been holding for too long, laughing shakily at the end of it.

Tim blinks up at him. Everything’s still a little soft around the edges. “What?”

“You scared the shit out of me,” Jason says. “I’ve never seen anyone get so...you were just fuckin’ _gone._ ”

Tim sighs, rubbing his face against the softness of the pillowcase. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jason says, taking a drink from the water bottle he’d offered Tim. “I’ve just never seen anything like it. It’s intense. You’re...really intense.”

Tim doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. He doesn’t really know what to say to that. Jason kind of sounds like he’s freaked out a little, but then his fingers are in Tim’s hair, just kind of petting him, and it’s really nice, so he doesn’t worry about it anymore.

They stay like that for a while and eventually Tim wonders if he should leave. He knows Jason let him sleep here the first time, but that was different. Jason had made him go to sleep and then Jason had spent the night on the couch and Tim had slipped out in the morning to avoid any awkwardness. He hadn’t been ready to talk about it then. Tim doesn’t really want to leave this time though, too boneless and warm and fucked out, wrapped in sheets that smell like Jason and sex and a little bit like the medicated ointment he’d put on him earlier. 

Eventually Jason huffs like he’s made some kind of silent decision with himself and pulls the covers back, crawls into the side next to Tim and puts his hands behind his head on the pillow. 

“I’m not sleeping on the couch again,” He says softly, like he’s not sure Tim’s even still awake. “Had a cramp in my neck for three days last time.”

_I don’t want you to,_ Tim doesn’t say. Instead, he’s quiet for a few minutes, until Jason’s breathing has slowed to an even pattern that could almost be mistaken for sleep. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly and decides if Jason isn’t asleep, he’ll let him interpret what that means. Honestly, he’s not even sure himself.

For a minute he thinks Jason actually fell asleep, but then, “You going to slip out in the morning again or should I make coffee?”

Tim smiles into the pillow. “Cream. No sugar.”

Jason snorts and rolls onto his side. “Yeah, you can get your own fucking coffee.”

But when Tim wakes up the next morning there’s a mug on the nightstand next to the bed, the coffee in it so light it’s almost beige. Tim takes a sip. Bitter, strong, not an ounce of sugar. He smiles. It’s the best cup of coffee he’s ever had.


End file.
